


a city in stillness

by vervains



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Action, Blindness, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, City Motifs, Daredevil AU, Hell’s Kitchen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Jaehyun is Daredevil, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Partial Blindness, Taeyong is a nurse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:01:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25799356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vervains/pseuds/vervains
Summary: for once, jaehyun is trapped in a bubble, and everything outside of the two of them is out of focus. muted, unimportant. it’s a terrible reprieve.
Relationships: Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Lee Taeyong
Comments: 22
Kudos: 73
Collections: Melody Fic Fest





	a city in stillness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [crimsun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsun/gifts).



> to anyone who’s unfamiliar with daredevil, he was made blind by an accident when he was a kid that also gave him heightened senses, hence how jaehyun can hear and sense his opponents and also “see” taeyong to an extent.
> 
> the song this was inspired by was blackpink’s “playing with fire” specifically the lines below.
> 
> “i’ve already come too far, none of this is a game anymore.”
> 
> i hope you enjoy! please do read the tags!

Jaehyun can taste the copper on his lips, in the air, hear the blood pumping through his last opponent’s heart — rapid, unsteady. That, and the cold sweat trickling down his brow betray his fear, but still he brandishes his katana, the metallic sound giving away his position. Jaehyun hears the sharp intake of breath, sidesteps so late the swing of the blade makes his hair flutter. Even though the guy is fast, he isn’t fast enough.

He’s too hasty, too telling with his movements. Even with the wound in his side slowing him down, Jaehyun doesn’t have to see to know where his katana will strike. A split second of hesitation is all it takes to catch him off guard; a twist of his hand and the blade clatters to the ground. Allowing for a moment of pity, Jaehyun rams his knee into his torso. The tear of the muscle and his attacker’s wheezing breath almost distract him from the telltale screech of police sirens in the distance.

Jaehyun swears, presses his hand to his side and feels wetness. He kneels and grabs the man’s collar, pulling his bloodied face close. He doesn’t revel in this, but he also doesn’t want the 15th precinct catching onto him again. He won’t be able to make a quick getaway while injured.

“Where did you take the kids?” he growls. “Where’d Nobu hide them, huh?”

He spits something in Japanese that Jaehyun doesn’t understand. Momentarily, he feels sorry enough to let him stab him with the little blade he’s been hiding in his boot, but he’s already in bad shape. He traps the man’s hand against the floor before he can reach for it and punches him hard in the temple. He falls still. 

Jaehyun sighs. The police are close, he can hear their cars and scanners. He takes a quick count of his injuries — it’s worse than he thought. The wound in his side bleeds freely, and he has multiple tears down his back that hurt more now that he’s lost focus. He shakes it off, pulls the bandanna lower over his eyes and steps past the unconscious bodies, slinking into the alley behind the warehouse. He thanks God that Hell’s Kitchen is riddled with these paths, muddy and strewn with garbage, but safe. Hidden enough that no one sees the Man in the Mask stumble through them.

He’s dizzy, senses clogged with the smell of rotting food and piss. The sounds of the city — cars, people yelling at each other, cats meowing — and the pain makes him want to stop and lie down, but he keeps going. He’s at the fire escape of the apartment complex when he realizes he didn’t call Taeyong beforehand. It’s too late now. He pulls down the ladder, grits his teeth at the way his skin tears further, and hauls himself up. Taeyong lives on the second floor, and his kitchen window is ajar; a small mercy. 

Jaehyun knocks, remembering the time the man had come out armed with a frying pan when he didn’t. His lip twitches — Taeyong’s listening to jazz tonight, and he can smell homemade pasta and something sweet, flowery. The music switches off, and he hears Taeyong’s heartbeat pick up in the slightest as he leaves the living room. 

“Why did I know it was you?” Taeyong mutters, his voice coming from behind the window. He’s wearing cologne — if that isn’t any indication that he had someone over, the expensive fabric of his shirt is.

Jaehyun pauses, cocking his head. “Am I interrupting?” he asks, even though he can’t sense anyone else inside.

Taeyong shakes his head and then thinks better of it. “No, they’ve just left. But you know that. Come on in.”

He sounds weary, but Jaehyun’s bleeding out and his ears won’t stop ringing so he complies, hiding a grimace as he crawls in through the tiny window. Taeyong catches him even though he doesn’t need to, and clicks his tongue at his wounds. He can tell he’s trying to mask his concern and if Jaehyun were anyone else, it might have even worked. 

“What did you get yourself into this time?”

“Doubt you really wanna know,” Jaehyun mutters before he can chastise him further. He lets Taeyong lead him to the couch, tries to ignore the way his breathing shifts when he leans close. Jaehyun rips off his mask, falling back against the cushions. Taeyong’s fingers ghost over his body in a quick assessment of his injuries.

“You’re bleeding out,” he brushes Jaehyun’s hands away to get to the wound in his side, “I’ll get my kit.”

Jaehyun drifts in and out of consciousness as Taeyong works. He’s trained himself to never let his guard down, to pick out the slightest detail and be on his toes, but it’s hard not to relax at Taeyong’s quiet breath and the rhythm of his heart. He stems the bleeding in his side, practiced hands covering the wound with gauze before moving to his less threatening injuries.

“Lacerations down your back, a puncture wound, what sounds like a broken rib from your breathing...Do I want to know what happened?”

Jaehyun assumes he looks worried; all he can see is a botched outline of Taeyong in a sea of redness — or maybe he’s just kidding himself. Not for the first time, he wonders what colour Taeyong’s eyes are, and whether they are as resolute as he imagines them to be. 

“You should see the other guys,” he jokes weakly.

“I’m not sure I want to,” Taeyong murmurs, moving him so he can get to his back. He treats the cuts there carefully, stitching up the deeper ones and bandaging the others. He’s quiet, but it doesn’t throw Jaehyun off. The way Taeyong keeps drawing breath to speak and changing his mind is hard to ignore. 

“Go on,” he prompts. “You wanna say something, so say it.”

Taeyong sighs. “You know I believe in what you do, but it looks as if you’re out of your league,” he confesses. 

Jaehyun lets him continue, but he debates shattering the illusion of him the other man has built in his head. If he knew about half the things Jaehyun does under the anonymity the mask offers, he doubts Taeyong would be so willing to help. But a selfish part of him doesn’t want to tarnish that idealistic image. Maybe it could be good when Jaehyun couldn’t be. 

“I don’t agree with some of your methods, but I also don’t see anyone else stepping up to do what you do. And judging from the news, other people think the same. But it can’t be easy. I’m talking about the hiding, not the beatings. Where do you draw the line between Jaehyun and the Man in the Mask?”

Jaehyun finds it difficult to breathe, and it isn’t because of his fractured rib. “They’re the same person.”

He imagines Taeyong to be tilting his head, a knowing look in his eye. “And that’s why you’re here in my apartment instead of at the hospital. The system exists for a reason, Jaehyun. Maybe you should let it do what it was made to do before…”

“Before what?” he breathes. He’s suddenly aware of the fact that Taeyong’s gloved hands are resting against the edge of the couch, and his cologne has hints of jasmine. He shuts his eyes even though it’s a placebo; his senses don’t have an off-switch and although that does work in his favour, now isn’t one of those times.

“Before the next time you need my help, it’s too late,” Taeyong finishes, his tone dark. 

“Careful,” Jaehyun smiles, because the idea of doing anything else is too dangerous, “that’s starting to sound like concern.”

“If you weren’t injured, I’d punch you.”

Jaehyun chuckles. “I don’t doubt it.” 

Taeyong’s voice is already a little high, but it rises in pitch — Jaehyun’s taken it to be a sign of distress. “I’m serious. You could be killed anytime, and then who’d go around risking their neck for this city? You watch out for us, but who watches out for you?”

Jaehyun attributes it to the painkillers Taeyong made him take, but he reaches for one of Taeyong’s hands, ignoring the fact that his gloves are stained with his blood. “Some might argue that’s you,” he murmurs, and he knows he’s fucked up because he swears that Taeyong’s heart skips a beat, whatever words he was about to say catching in his throat. His hand tightens in Jaehyun’s, long fingers intertwining with his.

“My job is to help people. I wouldn’t be much of a nurse if I left you for dead, would I?” He’s quieter now, and although there’s sadness in his words, they’re not a lie.

“Yeah, but I keep coming back. That doesn’t bother you?”

Taeyong lets out a humourless laugh, pulling his hand out of Jaehyun’s grip and sitting down on the floor. “You know, I had a date earlier. He was sweet, a gentleman, even. He got me flowers—,”

“Carnations,” Jaehyun whispers, finally placing them.

“Yeah, my favourite, and I had a nice time. But it doesn’t matter. Because even though tonight’s my night off, I kept thinking back to you. Whether you’re in trouble, whether you’re bleeding out in a dumpster somewhere. And I shouldn’t get attached but — ,”

“You’re right, you shouldn’t,” Jaehyun cuts in. “But the people that did this to me, they’re abducting kids, Taeyong. Grabbed one today and beat his dad while he watched.”

Taeyong stills, a slight gasp escaping him. Jaehyun continues, glad he can’t see what face he must be making, “I know I’ve put you in danger by coming here, I’ll disappear if you want. But like it or not, I’m in this now and I can’t get out.”

And as much as he’s tempted sometimes, he can’t be what Taeyong wants. He can’t go further than asking him to patch him up when things go south, and thinking about their lingering touches or how Taeyong sometimes catches himself staring at him and has to look away. He does the same now, which stings a little more than Jaehyun expects.

“I’ll go,” he says softly when Taeyong doesn’t speak. He lifts himself into a sitting position, holding back a hiss of pain at the way his entire body protests. But none of his wounds reopen, so he takes it as a good sign. He’s steeling himself for the way his head will swim when he stands when Taeyong’s hands come to his arms, keeping him in place.

“I didn’t fix you up for you to bleed all over my carpet again,” he scolds, and then takes in a deep breath, his tone gentle, “Stay. You know I wasn’t asking you to leave.”

“But maybe I should, yeah?” It wasn’t meant to be a question but it comes out that way. Everything is elevated, from the ache in his chest whenever he draws breath, the feel of Taeyong’s hands on his body and the rapid beating of both their hearts. For once, Jaehyun is trapped in a bubble, and everything outside of the two of them is out of focus. Muted, unimportant. It’s a terrible reprieve.

“No,” Taeyong whispers. He draws nearer and the few inches that separate them are unbearable until he presses his lips against Jaehyun’s. The kiss is soft and tentative, and Jaehyun fumbles for a second because he’s not used to the gentleness. But when Taeyong’s tongue teases his own, his arm wraps around his back in reflex, pulling him as close as he can manage. 

The world falls blissfully silent. Jaehyun can no longer hear anyone three floors down, or worry about the leaky pipes in the building. He can’t even tell what Taeyong tastes like — his best guess is something citrusy. All he can register is the way Taeyong’s kissing him like this is both a beginning and an end, hands in his hair and heart in his mouth. They’re a bloody mess, but they’re honest, and for the first time in a long time, Jaehyun feels something more than anger or apathy. He _wants_ , and it’s more painful than either.

“Taeyong,” he calls, softly, urgently, but the other man is too busy alternating kisses between his mouth, jaw and neck, somehow never aggravating any of his injuries. Jaehyun has kissed a lot of people, but never in the Mask and he’s pretty sure he’s never heard his own heart pounding in his ribcage. “Taeyong,” he murmurs again, holding back a quiet moan as Taeyong finds the sensitive spot in his neck, “wait a minute — ,”

“What?” Taeyong asks, pulling away for a second and Jaehyun realizes how hard he’s breathing, his chest heaving under Taeyong’s palms. The other man’s voice changes from dazed to worried. “You know what, I’m sorry,” he flounders and Jaehyun misses the warmth of his body immediately. “That was stupid. I don’t know what I was thinking — ,”

Jaehyun chuckles, which makes Taeyong even more agitated. He takes one of his hands and squeezes it. “No, it’s just... one of my stitches came off.”

“Oh,” Taeyong breathes. And then he laughs. It’s a nervous laugh, but it grows into genuine amusement. “Right, sorry. So it wasn’t the kiss?”

“Far from it,” Jaehyun smiles. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.”

“Why didn’t you then?” Taeyong’s tone is all business again as he works on his broken stitches, but Jaehyun can detect the quiver in his voice and his erratic pulse. His smile turns melancholic. He’s been too scared to name what he feels for Taeyong but that kiss solidifies it, and he knows Taeyong feels it too.

  
“Because you deserve carnations and date nights, not a half-dead vigilante at your doorstep.”

“So that’s what this was about,” Taeyong sighs. Jaehyun swears the weight of his gaze is more intimidating than any of the people he fights. “Listen, I know what I’ve gotten myself into, and I want to help. I just worry about you, that’s all.”

“You should be more worried about yourself.”

“Maybe. What you do is dangerous, I could get hurt, all that fun stuff. But for now, you’re here and there’s no one after us. So let’s just take it one day at a time, yeah?”

And it’s so tempting. Not just because Jaehyun can still feel Taeyong’s lips on his own, or because of how he’s small enough to fit perfectly in his arms. It’s just been so long since he’s had a true home to come back to, instead of a place that belongs to only half of himself. He doubted it at first, but Taeyong doesn’t expect anything more than he can give. He doesn’t have to hide around him, and it feels like a gasp of fresh air after being stifled all his life. 

“Alright,” he relents. He’s never been good at controlling his vices.

“Good,” he can hear the smile in Taeyong’s voice, “and if you feel that bad, the next time you need my help, pick up some flowers along the way.”

“I’ll remember that,” Jaehyun promises. He tugs Taeyong close, giving him a small peck on the lips. Taeyong smiles into the kiss. 

“You better,” Taeyongs warns, pulling out of his grip with some reluctance and snapping his gloves off. He gets to his feet. “I’ll clean up, get you some blankets.”

He makes it to the bedroom doorway before he turns to Jaehyun, the question coming out as an afterthought. “You will stay, right?”

For so long, Jaehyun has tried to separate his identities, despite telling Taeyong they make up the same person. If he’s being honest, that line was blurred long ago. He’s embraced the purpose the mask gives him so well that he’s lost himself in it. But here’s Taeyong, with his steady hands and bleeding heart, willing to stand by him anyway. 

“Yeah,” he says, over their mingling heartbeats and the cacophony of the city he’s sworn to protect, “I think I will.”

  
  


fin

**Author's Note:**

> do leave a comment and let me know what you thought! get in touch with me below:
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/dawnblushes)   
>  [cc](https://curiouscat.me/vervains)


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